


Flowers and a pink slip

by Azriel12345



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Brain Surgery, Comedy of Errors, Crossdressing, F/M, Gay Male Character, Gen, High School, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Conditions, Oneshot, Romantic Comedy, School, Stalking, f/f overtone, intersexual character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 01:11:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7554379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azriel12345/pseuds/Azriel12345
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alia has a brain condition which has been both-boon as well as curse for her. Doctors have already declared her condition to be too dangerous without surgery, however the surgery might cost her the only possession she coveted above all-an IQ of  170, and she would like to enjoy certain facets of life before going under scalpel again!<br/>One of them is- having a boyfriend.<br/>Without even a single crush or love in her entire life, she was next to desperate.<br/>She would accept anything...anything.<br/>But what  happens if her stalker turned out to be a girl?<br/>CHAOS ensues....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers and a pink slip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KizuKatana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KizuKatana/gifts).



> This is my first fic on a03, and I hope you all like it!  
> All sorts of comments and critique are welcome! They inspire to write furthermore, and if you have any prompts or requests, they are welcome too!  
> Now dig in!

24TH FEB, 2014  
“Are you aware of the consequences, Alia?”   
I nodded once, and then again. My very heart squeezed at the thought how I lie daily to the only person who mattered most, and how they slip through my lips so easily. Being the freak I am, sure, my mother was worried.  
Even if my brain acts devilishly erratic to the point of hospitalization, I wouldn’t allow any scalpel near it. Even if I die out of seizure or fit, no more doctors!  
And how can I forget my IQ of 170 which helped me compensate hours lost in hospitals? It might sound downright arrogant, but truth is truth. Being picked at from an early age for my lanky figure and quick rebuttals, I made some choice enemies down the line. I don’t want to lose my only line of defence.  
Even if those doctors claim my IQ comes at a high price (namely shorter life and lower immunity), I would definitely not give up. After all, what is the chance I will be even alive after their so called ‘successful’ surgery? For all I know, they would even claim this guinea pig experiment as astounding success even if my body rots away in morgue.  
All right. Scratch that out. I should probably cut some slack. But believe me, no one loves constant probes and meddling, not to mention pounding headaches after anaesthesia, just to be informed that they were nowhere close to grand truth. If not for my father, I was sure they would have shipped me to some far away facility where they keep aliens and monsters for their devious experiments (frankly, I don’t mind meeting aliens)  
The extra lobe of my brain defined me. I suffered. I learnt. People loved to hate me. I learnt to ignore them. I was bullied. I shut them down in the game they can’t win. I was stacked together with bunch of so called ‘weirdoes’ (Again, their language. Not my word). Our group of four is the only one I find interesting (Nain, Rimi, Sparsh and me) and I learnt to love them.  
No way in hell I would give it up.   
‘You really sure?’  
I could hear the tremor beneath her calm composure. Her ever consuming distress called out to my soul, her silent plea clawing to be heard loud and clear. But this was my decision. The petrified heart as a result of daily struggles withstood the melting heat of my mother’s eyes, and I denied again, which finally broke mother’s mask.  
________________________________________  
26TH FEB, 2014 CARAMEL HIGH, DELHI  
I fervently waited for the lunch break, as Nain finally showed up in class. The last time I saw, he was covered up in bruises from head to toe, bashed up badly in the back alley behind school by our common perpetrators (although I made sure Vrini’s cronies got suspended, I couldn’t pin down the prime culprit, Asman, which made my very blood boil when he sneered wickedly behind head teacher’s back) Asman, I should say, is the very epitome of ‘assholeism’ (Crude? Hell, no! That’s the best adjective I could come up with. Rest are censored) Being Principal’s son sure is advantageous. Add to the mixture, drop dead handsome and smart. Even if you are an unequivocal homophobe with drug addictions and a series of random assaults to your credit, you can walk in school grounds without fear.  
See, I warned Nain not to act rashly. He came out of closet few months back despite my word of caution. I don’t blame him. He is a free spirited guy. Falling short at 5’ 6’’, he is pure midget of joy to behold, with wild fantasies and a horribly horny mind. A terrific quizzer and my only companion in both sports and mind games. Rimi is the jalapeno of our group, with tongue sharper than knife and a heart brighter than gold. Sparsh, as his name suggests, has a touch of an obsessive artist (his artistic aesthetics transcends beyond boundaries of human bodies, which earned him a notorious tag of ‘pervert’)  
We finally gathered at the abandoned school quarters, where Sparsh helped Nain up with a firm arm around his waist, Nain leaning heavily against Sparsh’s shoulders.  
“You deserved it”  
My greetings to someone who recently suffered week of hell at hospital.  
“How cruel! Ever heard of the word ‘concern’?” he complained, shifting uncomfortably, lying down on the hard floor. I ignored it, as usual.  
“At least we got them suspended for month,” Rimi gritted menacingly, eyes flashing.  
“But the King of Prick got spared,” I added, my fists clenching at the very thought.  
“Who, Asm-?” he got up suddenly, and then groaned loudly as his leg took a nasty turn, eyes glistening with unshed tears, “holy cow!”  
“Yes, him. Who else?” Rimi said scathingly. “Our principal sure is human, after all”  
“Oh, good. Saves me a lot of hard work” he let out a content sigh. “Asman sure is handful”  
Silence ensued. We all stared for a minute or so, waiting for justification.  
When we got none, Sparsh lightly brushed his hand over Nain’s forehead to check his temperature, “No fever,” he murmured, then rounded at him, “Will you mind explaining why you suddenly grew a soft spot for him? I hope it’s not your hormones speaking”  
That sure struck nerve, as Nain stuck his tongue out, then shrugged nonchalantly.  
“Simple. He saved me from Vrini’s group”  
“Isn’t he part of the elite circle?” I wondered aloud, “why the hell would he save you?”  
It seemed as if Nain waited exactly for that question. His lips curled slightly, and continued smugly, “I am sure you of all people should be able to figure it out”  
It’s no point wheedling for further explanation from Emperor of Enigma, so we soon drifted towards safer topics, like upcoming birthday party for Nain and anniversary party for jalapeno-artist couple. Surprised? Not really! They fully complement each other! My surgery is old news, and they didn’t even bother bringing it up again.  
________________________________________  
1ST JULY 2014  
It’s shocking.  
Quite shocking.  
A ball just popped out of a girl’s bosom I bumped right now.  
Not just any girl.  
The girl.  
My female stalker who plunged me into days of despair and agony and led me to think only lesbians desire me.  
Seriously. No offence against lesbians. It’s great to know I am desirable. But if you are 100% straight and not a single boy even pretends to wink at you, it- what should I say- hurts your ego?  
And my stalker was guy all along!  
The guy I knew.  
On top of it, the macho boy has a certain penchant towards cross-dressing.  
And he just came out of girls’ washroom.  
I thought I had enough weirdness of my lifetime with extra heart and all-but this topped everything.  
Sorry guys. I again fell back to my habit of jumping the story.  
It all started with the lavender hued rose meticulously kept in my gym locker with a printed confession letter on fine April Fool morning. A subtle aroma of cologne enveloped the rich, thick parchment, and I glared hard at the possible culprits as I stomped out of room.  
“So calling me cherry girl is not enough?! This is the worst humiliation of my life! You dare make my love life as subject of your pranks?” I screamed.  
The trio were perplexed likewise, blinking innocuously. So they want to play innocent?  
Challenge accepted. Two can play the game!  
‘What are you talking about?’ Jalapeno asked, her eyes fixed at the burning letter of shame. I shook my hand fiercely with the glaring evidence of their mischief, and Nain took the initiative to snatch away the offensive proof.  
They went through the contents together, their expressions metamorphosing from fear to pure amusement as they continued. Finally, Sparsh looked up, gazed straight into my eyes, failing miserably in his poor attempts to contain his guffaws. “Congratu-la- sorry!” They simultaneously burst into laughter, not a single repentant bone in their bodies.  
“Congratulations- and celebrations!” they chorused, as Nain waddled forward to ruffle her hairs, “The Last One, finally” (inspired by the ‘Chosen One’ concept in Harry Potter. I know, his references sucks)  
They were not above rubbing salt into my wounds. Traitors.  
Finally, after having their fill to their hearts content, they returned to the matter at hand.  
“I never knew you were such a secret flirt,” Rimi exclaimed happily, patting her back hard.  
“I’m not. And if what you claim is true, then who?” I pondered aloud.  
“Someone from Vrini’s group, for sure,” Nain suggested, his creepy enigmatic smile intact.  
“What are you so happy about? Rimi asked, which Sparsh seconded, “You know something about this?”  
“Certainly not!” Nain grinned wickedly, “it’s just funny. That’s all!”  
That didn’t sound convincing, not in the least. But we all know he was metal head in pressure conditions (coming out during teenage years certainly steel you up), so it was basically useless threatening him.  
We fell back to routine with no major events in between, until finally it arrived.  
The burgundy rose with another pink slip.  
Same place. Same time. Just a week apart.  
God, the stalker was serious. It wasn’t a prank after all.  
But what kind of sane man confesses on April Fool Day? Is he stupid? Or is this prank played for an elongated time period?  
The contents of slip sounded same as usual. How my said admirer fell head over heels for me on first sight.  
We started to keep tabs on my dreaded locker. Amazingly, my pursuer was equally guarded. The flowers popped up everywhere of my significance, our secret hideout (that’s childish dream to re-enact Secret Seven), my desk, even my school shoes and once, to my horror, in clandestine stash in my bag.  
It went beyond my comprehension how a single person can evade four people at once (and I haven’t even stressed Sparsh’s ocular prowess) so elusively. The stalker is frigging genius!  
Until the shadow finally showed up in lion’s lair.  
A bespectacled tall girl stood before my locker, confidently unlocking it (I can think of seven possible ways how she turned up with the key) before she pulled out a tiny pink slip and purple iris from breast pocket and put them gently, caressing petals with an easy smile. I watched on, confounded, immersed in this private moment. What stopped me from jumping her? No idea. Nagging guilt? Her ethereal beauty? I just saw her back and the side smile, but she strike me as beautiful. I am straight, for god’s sake! What had gotten into me?  
And why did she appear so familiar?  
I admit I am not the brightest of the bunch when it comes to emotions. Logical puzzles, Rubix cube are cakewalks. How should I react to this situation? Is it fair to lead someone on in a useless chase?  
Isn’t romance part and parcel of adolescence? The boys don’t approach me anyway for my demeanour…perhaps I should try new waters?  
And if you wonder why I didn’t change my locker key… I wonder if it’s my innate wish to see that smile again…  
________________________________________  
Or so I thought.  
“ASMAN?!!!”  
The wig fell off spectacularly, and so did the red rose from his breast pocket. He appeared positively sheepish, like a small boy caught red handed stealing chocolates. We ushered towards nearby gym room for privacy which the flowing conversation definitely required. While Sparsh and Nain made sure gym to be fairly empty except us, Rimi seemed comically appalled at the turn of events.  
Asman sat up grudgingly, avoiding eye contact for a while. Finally, he let out a long sigh, before grousing croakily, “I can explain”  
I stood before him, arms crossed.  
“Fine. Proceed”  
He bit his lips nervously, looking everywhere but us. “I am generally not like this! It’s just a disguise!” he protested and stopped immediately. Guess my death glare still worked. He gulped visibly, before continuing.  
“I might appear downright douchebag to you, but believe me… I haven’t-”  
“I don’t think that’s even an issue any longer,” Rimi cut him off, while Nain grumbled; “Let him speak, will ya?” Rimi assented, nodding reluctantly.  
“Cutting long things short, I have liked you for a long time. Even before when my parents divulged my condition,” he rushed on, his words garbled.  
That didn’t even make sense. “Can you at least try to be comprehensible?”  
“Alright…” his shoulders drooped, and looked straight into my eyes, “if you remember, I was quite frail in my childhood. I was constantly given drugs…my mother claimed it was to alleviate my illness…but it was only later I grasped its significance”  
Useless to say we were entirely engrossed in his tale. We humans always had that sadistic streak in us.  
.“I was born intersexual, you see? Brought up as a boy, I knew something was amiss when I reached puberty. It felt…weird? I acted out. Rebelled. And that was when they finally told me what I was”  
That managed to shut us all up. Hanging on to each and every word with rapt attention, we didn’t even notice the tears pouring down his eyes. “I know how we are treated in this country. The discrimination is bone deep. How, even if I like you, people call us freaks… and I knew exactly how you feel” his eyes were piercing, his determined stare ran true conviction.  
“I was convinced if I stay strong… everything will be alright… and somehow, I forgot myself.” He addressed Nain. “And the day you came out… I told you before. I was relieved. And angry at myself. For being so weak. And I am sorry I took it out on you”  
So that’s what Nain meant.  
Nain merely shrugged, indicating him to continue. Asman concurred.  
“Rest is history. I joined Vrini’s group, took advantage of dad’s influence. Yes, rotten to the core. But I managed to grab your attention,” he smiled his signature grin which floored me again. He trapped me into his honeyed eyes.  
“I have nothing else to add. Rest is your call”  
Even Rimi used her ultimate weapon - red rimmed puppy eyes on me, moved by the tale, pleading for a second chance. I told you she is softie. I huffed a little, before assenting hesitantly and offered him hand of peace.  
He deliberated for a while, as if to dismiss it as mere figment of imagination. His hand rose slowly, and then proceeded to tighten frighteningly about my fingers, as if to assure himself of their reality. His stiff shoulders gradually relaxed, releasing inbuilt tension. He looked up hopefully, no wonder waiting for the golden words.  
It was no use prolonging it anymore. I don’t believe in dramatics and grudges. His point of view was clear as day, and frankly, now that I know he is boy, I can surely give him a chance. Not that I am desperate, alright? I just know…he is fine.  
“We can…certainly try”  
And that’s the beginning of a different story altogether…  
Ciao for now!!!


End file.
